


More Than I Could Ever Promise

by Indybaggins



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Character Study, First Time, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People are vulnerable, messy, and cruel, and Sherlock is too much of all three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than I Could Ever Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CherryBlossomTide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBlossomTide/gifts).



> A tiny present for Cherrytide to thank her for her beta help, she asked for “anything with John angst,” I hope this suits the bill! *g*

 

 

John knows. 

He has known for - how long? From before the wedding? From when he moved back in? From waking up to Sherlock standing in his doorway tonight, from the close, dense, airless togetherness they are living in these days - that Sherlock wants things from him. 

They’re not comfortable things, though. 

It’s vicious in its day-to-dayness, people are vulnerable, messy, and cruel, and Sherlock is too much of all three. John can’t believe that he ever called him a machine, because Sherlock is overflowing with tension and emotion, _crackling_ in his need. 

There’s nothing Sherlock won’t do, John has gotten that picture now. And it’s fine in theory, but in reality it’s fucking impossible and John will go right along with it, because they’re already so entwined, so close, that he doesn’t know if there’s room for his own mind, just Sherlock’s. 

There are days where he wants to say, _you’ve ruined my life_. 

Or, _you saved it_. 

Days where John wants to hold Sherlock and kiss him, yeah, but then days where he wants to throw him against the wall and choke him, too. 

Days where he can’t breathe, where he thinks, _don’t look at me like that, whatever it is, I don’t have it, go look at someone else as if they’re going to break you_.

Knowing that Sherlock wants him doesn’t make it any better or worse than it already is. It’s still the single best, most dysfunctional, most volatile and intense connection he has ever had with another human being. And he loves, John thinks sternly, he does love Sherlock back with every bit he has. But sometimes it feels as if it will burn him up if he has to give one more sigh, one more try, one more bit of himself away to him. 

But he does, of course. Say yes. 

John lets Sherlock into his room, his bed, opens his heart for him along with his zipper. 

Lets it happen, feels Sherlock’s weight on top of him, after, asleep. Heavy. And he wants to get out and move - dear god just _move_ , but John doesn’t, stays. With Sherlock’s chin digging into his shoulder, Sherlock’s breathing huffing right onto his ear, Sherlock’s come still sticking to his fingers. 

Because that’s what he does, isn’t it?

Give in. 

Every goddamn time.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
